


A Killer to Die For!

by KazikluBae



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, I guess i'm trying to tell a story by another persons point of view, I want angst too, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Smut, Trying to do something here, fuckin thristy, gimme all those sweet missions, however that won't change the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazikluBae/pseuds/KazikluBae
Summary: First chapter is a presentation of reader, her back story, and eventual relations throughout the camp.I wrote it listening to Amour, from Rammstein.Forgive and forget my typos, as always.Thank you. You are welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is a presentation of reader, her back story, and eventual relations throughout the camp.
> 
> I wrote it listening to Amour, from Rammstein.
> 
> Forgive and forget my typos, as always.  
> Thank you. You are welcome.

You felt absolutely repulsed over Micah Bell. It was not his appearance or any physical traits, really, your problem was with his personality, it disgusted you. Layers and layers of attitudes that made you sick. And, as anybody who had eyes could see, he hated you as much as well.

 

"Your body is just a thing that allows your cunt to exist. That's the only thing you are, a pussy that talks" – he said once. And as he stopped to catch his breath, you jumped over him.

 

He had spirit, you should give it to him, and as you pinched your nails on his face, he hit your chest in full force. It was like your whole body screeched in despair, but you didn't give up, and before Dutch could pull you both apart from each other, you hit Micah's face and satisfied you saw blood spill from his mouth.

 

And his blue eyes. Oh, how savage they were.

 

You didn't tread too close to each other for the next days. But, even then, no one felt much safe around either of you. Some pats over your shoulder, a helpful hand from Miss Grimshaw's, but there were whispers, strange looks... You were still a very new addition to the gang, picked up in Blackwater, before "The Thing", and people didn't know you yet, or trusted you that much, and your temper didn't help that much.

It was one thing when Charles or Javier stood up to him and made him eat grass, people respected them. But you? You heard what they called you, including Micah, when you were not around – crazy eyes, for you couldn't look anyone straight in the eye.

There was something about you that escaped the ordinary, and every female figure they had ever seen. Maybe was your raven mane that you used to hide the right side of your face.

The side of your face that had a scar made so you would always look like you were giving a macabre half smile, a cut made long ago to open your mouth, to never see you sad again, a scar that never fully healed.

 

That was your stigma.

 

Your silent posture made you almost look like made of cold stone rock, like a vision from the afterlife. Your morbid silence was a warning to those who could hear, but before that, it was because you simply had become acquainted with not moving your mouth, so you would not feel the remains of that pain that once was. And your animalistic reaction to anything that seemed like a threat made you an outcast between the criminals themselves.

It was Hosea who had taken pity of you. Too young to be out there whoring in the streets. No father nor mother, just an endless, bottomless hole for all the dirt in the world. Too young and so scarred already.

 

How old were you?

 

You don't know, never knew, but you seemed too young to carry the pain and sins of men - the things that they used to hide from their girlfriends, fiancees, and wives.

You were a woman, and yet, were trapped in the body of a girl still in the years when all you should be concerned about was playing with dolls and dreaming with a beau. Your body's forms were not fully complete as the ones of Karen, Mary-Beth or Tilly, even you having their height.

 

But, don't you know when you were born?

 

The woman that raised you was a proud owner of a fancy brothel in Saint Denis. She thought you were old enough to make money, and it was already enough time for you to win it yourself – and also pay a suitable fee to her, of course. Otherwise, why would she had spent such coin on you, if it wasn't for your exotic looks and the prospect of your income.

Men fancy the young flesh, still smelling like mother's milk. And man would pay double to take the virginity of one so precious. "Brought from Europe, came to me so thin, poor thing, and I groomed her to this beauty you now see... No one ever touched her, I can assure you gentlemen, she's tight as a knot".

 

Where you were born, child?

 

Don't know. When I woke up from an endless dream, I was already cleaning floors and pots at Madam's.

Some feared and distrusted you, like Bill, Swanson or Pearson, to them you were a demon. A dirty woman, the type that would not only bring disease and madness to man, but also dishonor. Not worthy of their respect, only their fear and disgust. And sometimes, their body fluids.

Some were curious, like Sean or Javier, but you avoided them, you had your share of men for a lifetime.

Some wanted to take care of you, out of the goodness of their hearts, out of pity, like Hosea or even Arthur, because for them you were still a child. A victim in a cruel world.

Women were usually stepping on eggs around you. Miss Abigail Roberts didn't say it, but she would never let her child around you. Miss Karen Jones asked uncomfortable questions, maybe she thought that she was being tough or smart. She was neither.

 

"So, how many men did you laid with?" – she casually asked once – "Some of them was good?".

 

You were speechless and disturbed. Was that on purpose?

That thing she was asking, the thing that you had to do for a living, that was not sex, much less love, was merely rape. Was only pain, for you never felt pleasure.

Miss Tilly Jackson was understanding and supportive in her way, but also preferred to let you at a comfortable distance.

On the other hand, there was Miss Mary-Beth Gaskill, so sweet and full of dreams. She looked at you like a person in a zoo, and you the freak in the cage. Was she trying to figure you out to put you in some of her stories? Who knew. She didn't talk much.

But Miss Grimshaw, surprisingly, was a pillar of strength, because her being older and therefore, wiser, she didn't let vanity or despise affect her judgment. Some could say she had a soft spot for you, for she too knew what was like be used by a man, and forced to pay the price. It was a men's world, and woman always paid the price, even when they did not owe it.

Dutch's gal, what was her name? Ah, yes, Molly O'Shea. This Miss O'Shea said that she was bothered to have a former whore in camp. "Is the new girl clean?"- she would ask - "You never know what them can pass to us".

 

Yes, Miss O'Shea, Y/N is clean as the river we fish in.

 

"One may never know when they will return to old habits".

 

Miss O'Shea could have lost an ear that day, if it weren't for Micah Bell who was there to distract you from your homicidal instincts.

-New meat? – he laughed – If she returns to her old ways, send her to me.

For Micah Bell, oh no. For him, you were a mop to clean shit. He hated that you would not accept his attitude. Who were you but a little thing that he could break between his fingers, and still would not submit to him.

When, one night, he saw your scar against the firelight, he pondered about you, but only during enough time to come up with a new way to provoke you.

-Hey, crazy-eyes, you tried to bite the feet of your owner? Seems his spurs made a point on your face.

You tossed your food at Micah, over the fire, and things could have gotten worse once again, but this time Arthur caught you in time.

-Calm down, Y/N, leave it be. – Arthur said – He's just trying to get the best of you.

The rest of the gang didn't really take any interest in you, and that was a deep relief for you.

-Take a sip, honey, it will make you feel better – said Uncle, offering whiskey.

Strangely enough, Uncle didn't have any kind of prejudice towards you or offered any danger, he was a simple and lazy old creature. He drank when he wanted to do so, and slept when he was sleepy. And furthermore, he liked to talk so much that he could talk for both of you.

*

Months later, leaving to Horseshoe Overlook.

-Why should I take this sorry whore to a stroll? Ain't she Arthur's pet or something? – Micah barked.

-I hoped I wouldn't have to repeat everything to you, you pea brain. This girl knows the area better than you, and will help with the tricky spots – said, Hosea.

-You getting cocky, old man. I can just do that myself – Micah said.

-She's going Micah – said Dutch.

-Fine! – he eyed you, displeased – But I won't be babysitting young Messalina here. If she dies, too bad.

Death seemed a concept so vague as air to you. Life, on the other hand, was a bull monster to be taken by the horns – unpleasant, and harsh.

-Don't mind me, death is not my enemy. – you said.

He grumbled a curse at you and galloped away. You followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberry mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun. Can we do it again?

You two were in a “saloon”, or what supposed to be one. That was not exactly what you had in mind when they sent scouting near Strawberry with Micah Bell. Well, if you were being true to yourself, you expected to be a long and terrible journey, and that part was fulfilling itself. Strawberry was a dry town, and had no actual saloon beyond a rotting house-like place in its whereabouts, where people drank in secret from the mayor.

“It is bad for business to have drunk folk around the city” – he had said – “it scares the possible investments and tourists”.

Yeah, like anybody would invest in that place. It wasn’t even close to the station! Probably some kind of scheme was going on in that place, you could sniff something – things just didn't add up right – but not exactly what it was.

But, if something could be said about that journey was that, even being long and terrible, it wasn’t boring. Not one bit. Micah was an insufferable son of a bitch, but he also was fun when he was being an asshole to anyone but you.

And he was, more or less, always drunk, and it took off a little of the edge he was constantly on. It was your third day at that shit-hole, and Micah had picked a fight with every man that crossed him in some way, but none dared to confront him directly, and that gave him a satisfaction so sweet that allowed him to drink even the sourest liquid he could find.

When drunk like a skunk, Micah had that hazy look in his eyes, like he was in a dream, or escaping his own thoughts. Micah hated that you were always around, why couldn’t you find something to do other than bother him? Well, you were trying to prevent him from doing something stupid, other than drinking himself to death.

You weren’t in the mood to prevent him from killing himself with that drinking problem, nonetheless, you were amazed that he never passed out like most drunks, he was actually pretty functional even drunk.

One night, at the same shit-hole saloon, while you drank your beer, you met a guy Micah called Skinny, it appeared they rode together for a while.

-Who’s she? – Skinny asked, bothered with the fact that a stranger was listening to them.

-Just a tick that got stuck on me – Micah said. And that was quite kind of him since he used to call you worse than that – why don’t you make yourself scarce? – he continued, looking at you.

-Fine. – you said, sitting apart from them, but still hearing what they were talking about.

-Oh... – skinny was confused but not interested enough to care about that subject.

-Anything interesting around these parts? – Micah asked.

-Not much for folk like you – Skinny said.

-There’s no getting out of this life Skinny, you ain’t that different from me.

-I have a family now, someone to care about.

Micah laughed with contempt.

-Right, family and little piglets to care for. – Skinny remained still, but you could see he wasn’t comfortable with that conversation – You ain’t learned a thing from this life. Is it Maddy you’re talking about?

-Yes, that’s right. We have a fine life here, ain't good to have trouble around, it might get the law all bothered.

-When did I cause trouble?

-Well, that bank job down south... – Skinny started.

-You know that wasn’t on me – Micah said.

-Sure – said Skinny, dismissing the topic...

As their faces got sour, you noticed that probably it didn't end well.

They spent the night playing cards and drinking while you headed back to camp to sleep and guard your stuff.

You saw Micah only when the sun was rising, you could smell him from afar, that mix of smoke, alcohol, and cheap perfume that probably wasn't his own. His favorite red shirt was dirty, his eyes injected with blood. You felt strange having that view of him, almost like you were seeing something forbidden, and guessed that even more bitter than his smell was his mood so you didn’t ask anything, just watched him fall in his sleeping bag.

It was strange, for you never saw him sleeping at the camp, but here, he had no choice but to sleep in front of you.

You got up and made coffee. A few hours later, when the sun was high and disturbingly hot for you, Micah got up. His face was a silent threat, never fully rested, and you could bet he had one of his headaches, probably nausea too.

You broke an egg in a cup, with pepper and sugar, plus lemon juice, and gave him.

-What the fuck that’s suppose to be? – he said.

-Hangover drink. – you said – There’s ginger too, if you want.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of your intentions. He didn't thank you, but he drank it up in one sip.

-Where did you find those things?

-Well, I guessed you needed more. I figured that we was goin’ to kill each other if we had to face one another again without a remedy to your hangover.

-Very thoughtful, Y/N, I'm thrilled – he said, sarcastically – Why don't you try to annoy me a little more?

-You already hate me, I’m just making it easy for both of us.

-At least you noticed it, thought you was stupid for a moment.

There he was, Micah Bell, the asshole. Some of the things he said didn't get under your skin as before, but, sometimes you wanted to skin him and use him like a rug. Especially when he hurt your pride. He would have laughed if you told a whore could have pride, but wasn't you a human being too? Didn't matter. He was an asshole to everyone, it was not personal.

-Don’t think we should head back by now? – you asked, dismissing his complaints about your mental capacities.

-What for? To tell Dutch we ain't finding shit? Be my guest, and make me the favor of your absence.

-Shut up, Micah. – you said, drinking from your cup.

-Oh, you wish. – he said getting up to get some coffee – Maybe tonight I might get something, I’m feeling lucky.

-Why is that? Sold your soul yesterday in exchange of a great fortune? Didn't know the devil took the rotten ones.

Strangely, like animals that are put in an enclosure, one may kill the other, and if that doesn’t happen, they learn to live around each other.

\- Very funny, Y/N, thinking you is smart?  – he said, but he didn’t prolong himself in that part, and you bet it was because of his headache that was tormenting him once more – Besides, If I had, I wouldn't be talking to a sorry fuck like you. No, I guess it’s safe enough to begin with a little gamble.

-Didn’t know you played cards that well.

-Who do you think I am? Arthur? You hung about the wrong side of the gang this whole time.

You were unimpressed, nonetheless, you hoped it all turned okay in the end, for you were not there to cause any kind of trouble. There was something about Micah Bell that screamed his desire of being trusted with something – or was it approval? – and maybe he didn’t notice it before. But at the same time you felt – more than knew – that he had the personality of a hyena.

A survivor.

And you desired that your instincts were wrong, for it could ruin everything around him as quickly as it can happen.

You spent the next hours in blessed silence. It was easy, since you didn't have much to talk about – apart from the moments when he was drunk, then he could talk for hours about how shitty society was, and how his pa’ was wanted in five states and so forth.

It was easy to see why he wasn't trustworthy, but sometimes, when he wasn't talking shit about you – and was a little tipsy too – he also told you stories about his old days, long gone and forgotten, just to fall into a pit of depressed anger. You actually listened to him in those moments, and thought that he was terribly lonely to tell you about them.

You tried to hide from the sun, it made the rocks overheat. You didn’t feel fear of taking naps with him around. He was a son of a bitch, and liked to scare the hell outta a woman when he could, yet, he stayed quiet and didn’t touch you. Maybe afraid of getting a “whore disease” like other men? Doubtful, he had his share of working pussy for a lifetime, you guessed. Maybe you were so ugly and deformed with that scar on your face that he would be repulsed to do it with you. And you wouldn’t blame him, that scar was your shame. But, again, he didn’t seem the type that would feel threatened by a scar on a face, he could just turn you around.

Then why?

You shook yourself from that train of thought, it repulsed you. He repulsed you. Why were you thinking about Micah in that way? Did you see how he was at that moment? Literally almost dead on the ground, with his hat on his face so the sun wouldn’t hurt his eyes, scratching his nuts.

A sack-of-shit with guns, with a terrible temper and worst personality. And that was Micah Bell, the finest specimen of the human race. You laughed at your own sarcasm.

-Whatchu laughing about, crazy-eyes? Forgot your sanity back home? – Micah said, under his hat.

-Yeah, I’m getting crazy alright – you said, displease all over your voice. Maybe the sun was too hot over your head, making you think like a dumbass.

-Tell me again why Dutch didn’t let you chopping vegetables with crazy woman number two and the others?

-I guess he wasn’t sure if I would be of much use in that way – you said.

-You did try to cut Pearson like a pig – Micah said, his voice tone reprimanding you between the lines, dripping sarcasm.

-I guess Pearson didn’t want me around either – you said, with a shrug.

-What was your words? “Trying his fat”? – Micah said, with an amused snore.

-That’s how we know a pig is fat enough to kill. We put the knife deep enough to see where the fat ends and the meat begins. – you explained, amused.

Micah kept his silence, but had a faint smile on his face.

You slept a little until after sunset, when you woke up Micah was gone. That sack-of-shit went without you. That made you mad, but you didn’t understand why. So, you tried to wash your face with the rest of water that you had brought in the morning, getting your thoughts together. Did he tell you something about gamble? Yeah, he was feeling lucky.

When you arrived at the saloon, Micah wasn’t playing cards, maybe the tides had turned. He was playing that stupid knife game he loved so much, Five Finger Fillet  – his hands were full of scars of old cuts, and that was why.

You went to him, and watched how the game was going. A man just left the chair across Micah, his hand dripping blood.

-Sit down, my friend, and show me just what you got. – Micah said to another man who was standing.

Skinny was there too, in the corner, smoking a cigarette and watching things with interest.

-They’re just fingers, right? – Micah said, trying to convince the other. His face had that red glow, he had drank too much again.

The other man was still doubtful.

-I wanna play – said a voice of a man across the place.

An O’Driscoll. You did not notice them before for them were in a faraway corner. Now, you saw their colors, green.

You touched Micah's shoulder out of impulse. You wanted to say something but he couldn't draw back now, problem always found Micah, even when he wasn't looking for it.

-Well... – Micah said, showing the table to the man, pointing with his knife.

The O’Driscoll sited across him, a smug expression on his face. The others were dangerously close, practically surrounding you.

Micah bet 10c, the other too.

-You mind your hands now. – Mihad said, starting.

You withdrew your hand, suddenly noticing your previous action, your hand burned like you had touched something wrong. From that moment forward, it was difficult to breathe, at any time they could open fire on you, and you locked your eyes on his fingers, his weakness – you knew – was his little finger. It had more scars than the others.

The first round ended, Micah had won. But the other made a bet again – 20c.

-Ain’t you Dutch’s man? – the one standing asked.

-Yeah – Micah said, stopping the game and looking at the other – That’s a problem?

-Well, it can be – the one sitting said.

People started to clear the room after this, but not Skinny.

-How’s so? – Micah asked.

They laughed.

-What is a man without his guns, right? – the one standing said.

Micah narrowed his eyes.

-Sorry folk, but that’s not for you to have – Micah said angrily. His hands holding his belt, really close to his guns.

-The way I see it, you don’t have a chance. – The one sitting across Micah said, getting up from his chair. The others were pretty close too.

You had to do something. But what? You made the most stupid move in the history of stupid moves, and that kind of proved that the sun affected your brain, at last.

No one ever notices the woman in the corner, the gal in black and white. “Decoration, all of them” – they thought. But not that night. You threw yourself forward, and took the gun off the holster of the man nearer you, and pointed at him, and shot.

From that moment onwards, things just got worse, and you regretted every move.

Micah pushed you on the ground, while trying to turn the table and hid behind it. You looked for the counter, not knowing if you could reach it alive, but tried anyway.

You crawled to the counter, hiding behind him. With a single move, you aimed the gun towards the men, for they were still alive, at least two of them.

Micah shot another of them in the face, and the third had fleed. You heard the screams outside, the law was coming, you looked for Skinny, where would he be?

Micah ran through the back door, pursuing the remaining man, and that was when he got caught. You heard him screaming at the lawman.

Was it your fault? Probably. Most likely.

You let the weapon on the ground, it was easier to pass as innocent if you were but a whore brought there by one of the men that fleed.

But again, it was even better if they didn’t see you.

You tried to escape through a window and the trees. No one would pay that much attention to a girl, even more, when they caught at least one of the supposed killers.

You waited three days, at least, to play a scene to the Sheriff. Put your finest dress, that in the end wasn’t that fine at all, for its colors had faded a long time ago.

Mad as only a woman can get, you had made up your mind.

The thought of returning camp wasn’t on your schedule. You couldn't bear the shame of returning to camp at full speed and have to face them folk alone and say that because of you Micah got deep in shit, that scared you more than having to deal with your mess.

You were mad about how things had turned out. First, Micah went to jail not only because of the O'Driscolls hounds and that stupid knife game, but your shot also played its part, and that guilt was on you, not in him.

Many days before that one, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't sit and wait for help from anyone, and that pledge wasn't finished yet.

But again, it was Micah you were talking about, simple as that. He deserved to rot in jail. Who would actually miss him? No one would pay a second thought to his miserable existence, so why should you save him?

You could stay the whole day pointing what he deserved, but he didn't deserve to pay for something that wasn't on his bill.

You never expected help from anyone, you were not about to begin now.

As you were outside the jail, your heart pounded like a hammer. You had drawn the general lines in which your performance would evolve, but, it seemed that it was escaping your mind as you walked.

Inside the Sheriff's office, you tried to remember what you were supposed to say, it was something about one of them owing money to you, and that you wanted to collect something from them before they hang. "They would hang naked in the noose if that was necessary"- you had rehearsed.

But what you said was different.

-I need to speak to him! Where is him? – you said. Angry tears escaping your eyes.

-Calm down, woman. What do you want? – one of the men, the older and balder one, asked you.

-I know he is here! Don’t try to deny it! – you said, tear running free now – That sorry son of a bitch, I can’t believe he did it this time!

-I don’t know who are you talking about, miss?

-It’s ma’am – you said in the same tone that an old acquaintance used with you – Then, can you please gimme a description of the men you are holding?

The men looked at each other, but in the end, thought that you were harmless.

-Well, they weren’t friends. They got in a fight, two men got killed. Now... one of'em's an idiot, the other's some kind of dumb mick, so maybe on of them's your boy.

-That dumbass, I will... I will..! – you said – Can I see him?!

-Calm down. You can look right enough... when we hang'em – the sheriff said.

-But mister...!

-No. Now get outta here. – he said.

-Well – you said, cleaning your face – I hope them hang, truly do, and at last, I will have some peace and quiet. You do your job, sir. Have a good day!

When you stepped outside, you headed down the hill, looking at the small barred window under the office. Micah had to be there, it was your last hope, or else... You didn’t even want to think about it. At night you would see it closely.

You returned to camp, changed clothes and gathered guns. It was the highest gamble of your life that night, it was all or nothing. You entered the city way past midnight, bringing Baylock along with your horse.

Trying not to get noticed, you reached the barred window.

-Let me outta here, you maggots! – it was Micah.

You got close and took your mask off. Micah was pretty beaten up, a dark eye and a cut in his lip, probably the lawman had done it, just to make him more agreeable and for all the insults he must have said. Something about seeing him so broken made you feel strange, an anxious type of feeling. Within yourself, it moved – like an organ that just came back to life – but it wasn't a feeling of pity or even sorrow. And you knew. You simply knew and that made you hate yourself even more.

-Did you bring Arthur?

-There is no one but me, Micah.

-You lost your goddamn mind? – Micah said.

-And I’m everything you will get. Now, you wanna stay here?

-No! Then let me outta here! How do you plan on doin’ it? You got any dynamite?

-No. – you said, looking around.

\- Well you gotta do something. – Micah said.

You laughed, tempted to ask why. You saw an old machine nearby, it was almost too perfect to be real, the person who let that thing rotting outside the jail certainly was a bigger moron than anyone you ever knew.

\- Yes, hook that over the bars, see if you can pull them off!

You put the thing in the barred window.

-Just pull that lever, come on.

You did as he said. The machine groaned like an old monster and you kept your distance. If that thing exploded, you were going to die first. Suddenly it creaked and ripped the window off the wall.

-Let's get outta here, come on – you said, giving him a gun.

You saw that the other O'Driscoll was in the same cell as him, and as he was about to escape too, Micah shot him in the face.

If he didn't do it, you probably would have to.

\- I knew you was scum, the moment I laid eyes on you! – screamed the Sheriff, getting out of his office with two men.

You were not the best shooter even if you had to shoot a lot of times before, so you aimed for the easiest target, the guts.

Soon, they fell, but others were coming from the main road by horse. Micah shot them first, and ran through the bridge.

-Micah, what the fuck! Don’t go that way, let's get the hell out of here!

-I got some unfinished business. Trust me, Y/N!

You hid behind a barrel.

-Trust you? You goddamn maniac, come back here!

But you followed him anyway, shooting everything in your way.

-We're in it now, Y/N. What do you wanna do? I'll kill this whole town if I have to!

-God damn it, Micah Bell! – you screamed – We should be long gone by now.

You hid behind boxes now, near the physician office, more man coming to you.

-They got something of mine I ain’t leaving without – he said.

-Who the actual fuck? – you screamed and shoot at somebody.

-Let's go. Making a house call. – Micah said.

For a moment, men stopped coming, maybe they were gathering ammo. In the meantime, Micah was banging on a door.

You stood your ground, watching for any strange movement.

-SKINNY, get out here! Skinny!

Oh, so that was his house call. But something was wrong.

-You always was a letdown, you fat sack of crap – Micah said, shooting Skinny dead on the porch of the house the minute the man opened the door - Excuse me a minute, Y/N.

You could hear him talking.

“Hello, Maddy... did you miss me?”, his voice smooth and cruel.

Then, you heard two shots, and Micah was out of the house again.

-They had something of mine... my guns! – he said showing them to you - I showed him, and I'll show the rest of this town!!

You laughed, and it was a good laugh, for the nonsense of that moment seemed near insane.

-You lost it, Micah, you really did it this time – you said, smiling.

-So did you, Y/N – he said, amused.

-There, more men – you said, hiding behind boxes again, and trying to shoot them all – there, a guy in the balcony.

Micah shot them.

-See the horses? Come on, follow me. Reckon it's time we got out of here, Y/N.

-About time. – you said, mounting your black steed.

Soon, others appeared.

-More of them. Shoot the devil outta those bastards!

You tried to stay behind and get them by their back, which actually worked.

-Keep riding, Y/N! – Micah said.

-Like I have a fucking choice! – you screamed, but, strangely enough, you were having a type of sick fun in killing all those men. It was like you were getting your sweet revenge at last!

-They just ain't giving up, are they? – he said - LOOK! THEY'RE SENDING THE WHOLE BRIGADE!

And you laughed and rode to them, shooting like crazy, not only at them but at their horses too. Horses were bigger and easier to put a bullet on.

-Okay... Let’s get outta here, before we get any more on our tail – he said.

As you put a distance between strawberry and you, Micah talked again.

-That was some good shooting, Y/N, huh... I gotta hand it to you.

-What was that with Skinny? – you asked.

-Ain’t much I care about more than those guns, and he took them so the law wouldn’t. He was gonna let me hang – he said.

-Oh... – you didn’t know how to feel about that. The excitement was fading of your body – See? You should thank me, now you owe me your miserable life.

He scoffed

-Yes, you will be thanked profusely, I promise.

-When?

-Someday.

-Liar – your inner self was becoming revolted again, but this time, it was for another reason, a darker one. You hated yourself so much at that moment.

He laughed.

-I think we finally lost 'em – he said, stopping Baylock.

-Yeah... You pulled a wild one back there.

-Speaking of wild things, what was that crap with the O’Driscols? Wanting to get yourself killed, is that it?

-And you could have handled them in your little finger, I’m sure.

-Y/N, next time you want to get shot, just tell me, and I will kill you gladly.

-Yeah, same goes to you, playing with damn O’Driscolls.

A silence fell over you.

-We ain’t telling Dutch this. – you said first.

-Well, look at you, little snake.

-I mean it! He doesn’t need this type of crap.

-Sure... If you say so. Not gonna lie though, if he asks me.  And besides, he will know about it eventually, we kind of made a mess back there... – he said - I’m giving you a holster, my new found way of saying thank you.

You picked it up, but didn’t answer.

-Now, I’m heading back to our little camp ‘round back of strawberry... Tell Arthur to come see me, maybe I have something interesting after all. Told you I was feeling lucky that night.

-Strawberry is on full alert, why you is returning?

-I've been a bad boy... I ain’t seeing Dutch till I can bring him a peace offering... because, you know he will hear about it – his horse raised it's front legs – Bye now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut for us all, Micah hoes.
> 
> Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned, and enjoyed veeeery much, indeed.
> 
> If I had to pick a song to listen while reading this, it would be “Put It On Me” - Matt Maeson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not fully satisfied with this chapter, but I can't do much more with it now.  
> Micah gives me the heebie jeebies, because that’s all he has to give.

You were still mad about how things had turned out. He was too close for your liking, and that made you nervous.

Now he had returned to camp with a handsome reward to boot.

And you hated him even more. Hated every piece of him, of his character, and you cursed the day that you actually saved his ass from hanging. You doomed yourself on that day.

The feeling was so strong that you actually could feel it spreading throughout your veins, and burning your flesh inside out, and it terrified you, more than life itself.

You wanted to kill him, because now he was guilty of making you want for the first time, and again once more every day since the jailbreak. It was as if all the lives you two took together, all blood that stained the ground, made your entire being awake, and be finally whole.

Micah was a man. It was never safe to be so close to one because when they had you in their hands, they would crush your spirit. You could not let it happen to you. You felt that he had some type of power over you, even if he was a disgusting son of a bitch.

So, when he returned to camp, you waited for an opportunity, hidden in the shadows. In the end, it was a matter of principles – really. You couldn't let a man enter your life, it scared you and felt wrong, and if these feelings were clouding your judgment, then you would take him down and cut the evil by its root. You couldn't allow existing a thing that would threaten your very being.

"Wasn't you being a little harsh?" - your inside voice would say.

"No, I'm not. He's a threat!" - you would convince yourself.

Who was he but a figure that resembled your despair? True, you were guilty of having those stupid feelings, but they were brought up to life by him – only him – Therefore, he was to blame. He had no right, and you could not stand live in that way. You would cut the evil by its root.

It was decided.

He had no tent, and you guessed people preferred him away from the camp most of the times. So, you waited he finish his bottle of beer, soon he would have to pee and find a place to sleep, and you could just stab him in the back, as you always promised him you would do.

When it was time, you trod lightly in the ground behind him. He had just peed and was smoking in silence. The knife was itching in the palm of your hand, your thoughts chasing your heart, but without success. You finally touched his back with the knife, he had no jacket that night, just his redshirt.

\- You think you have the guts to do it? – he said, feeling the cold steel through his clothes.

You didn't answer, and that was a mistake. Deep down, he could smell you, like a male who sniffs the heat of its prey. Because don't be mistaken, you were his prey, even when you had the knife ready to kill him, and suddenly you felt that even if you had a gun, you could not shoot the bastard dead.

He dropped his cigarette and turned to you, a smug expression on his face. His eyes gleaming like sapphires. He held you by your wrist, making you drop your weapon.

-You know, I always thought that you had more spirit than most women have, but seems I was wrong. Here I was, completely defenseless and you couldn't even kill me.

You could have fought him, tried to kick him or even bite, but the fire that burned your veins made you confuse, was it really only - purey - hate by that moment? The air around you changed, almost sparkled with energy. For a moment you desired to flee, but your mind was stuck on that moment.

-After all we've been through, you must be really mad, about what I don't know, nor I care to know.

You knew that look, full of lust and cruelty. And you felt your body tremble with the realization that those eyes were the same as yours. You hated him, despised him, but, oh, you desired him as well in the same intensity, to the point where you would hate yourself. You hated yourself for you could not carry the plan into conclusion. Maybe you should have killed yourself to spare your spirit from all the suffering that would come from him, but now it was too late for such precautions.

-Doll, how old are you? – he said, his voice now a purr.

-I don't know – you said, your voice was unshaken, at least.

He brought you closer. It was different from the Micah from Strawberry, this one was more predatory. You could feel the heat that emanated out of his body, although his hands were always cold.

-You bleed, I saw your bloody rags, so, let me ask this again and you will answer to me, or so help me god... How long have you been bleeding?

-Around eight years or so. – you answered.

-Oh.. – his voice softened – That's good. I don't like younglings, they never know how to please me. I was getting impatient with you, you know, such a tease you were Y/N, my balls turned blue just to look at you.

He kissed you, and his lips tasted like alcohol and smoke - he was drunk. His kiss was harsh, deep and violent. You moved away from him, and with your free hand, slapped his face – that was your last hope to avoid him.

-Oh – he laughed, gripping both of your wrists now – dollface, you really know how to get me off, don't you?'

He pushed you against a tree and made you face it, still holding your wrists tightly in your back with one of his hands.

You didn't put up a real fight to it though. Tried to move of course, and cried a little, but his hand was holding you with a strength that you couldn't quite equal in that position.

His boner already against your butt, almost like a warning. With the other hand, he took off his belt and put it around your neck.

-What was that? Surrendered already? I don't like it. – saying this, he tightened his belt around your neck, like a leash – I really thought that you would be one of the wild ones, Y/N since I was looking forward to tame you good.

For an instant, he stopped and smelled you, your hair in specific.

-Now, Y/N, I shouldn't do this, because you deserve what is coming to you, but... if you promise to be a good girl, I may let you go... Will you be good? Keep in mind that I hate good girls.

Many things passed through your mind at that moment. That was it, you could slip away from him, or something like that. You tried to move your legs and arms, but he still held you good. You could move all you wanted, but he continued standing still.

A fire burned in your belly, and what started as a small flame turned into a wildfire with the sound of his voice. Pleasure wasn't something new to you, but you never felt in that intensity. 

-No. – you said, at last. Deeply regretting your decision, but, you also felt resignation, because your body was not responding to you anymore, and the heat that grew between your legs was stronger by far than your thoughts and fears.

He laughed, his amusement was raw and deep.

-I thought so.

Then, he put a piece of cloth in your mouth, and instead of holding your wrists, he held your leash.

-We can't have them hearing you, even though I would enjoy your suffering very much... Oh yeah, I will make you suffer, doll, be sure of it.

He lowered your pants just enough to leave your butt and thighs exposed to him, and he slapped you good to test your flesh.

You whined but was never so sure on your life. You dug your nails to the tree – all your hatred turned in excitement, and it poured over your body like a waterfall, washing away your doubts.

-I like them soft, just like you...

And he slapped you again, and again until your flesh burned hot in the fresh air of the night. You whined the whole way, and every time he would slap you harder. When you thought he would slap you again, your flesh already so hurt, he slid his fingers between your butt cheeks.

-So hot in here, Y/N, keeping it warm for me?

You closed your eyes, small tears ran through your face. Then, Micah startled you by putting one finger in your cunt and his thumb in your asshole.

-I can't choose which one to fuck first, both so eager to get some of me.

And he started forcing his entrance into you, first moving as deep as he could, then he would go hard and quick. You were acquainted with that feeling – you had to be a prostitute for a while – but also had been a while since you fucked, and your body wasn't taking well being fucked again.

-Seems you are one of the hard ones. We'll change that tonight. – he said, pressing harder, which made you scream a little, pressing your forehead against the tree.

He continued until your body relaxed to the sensation again, and lit itself with the longing that could only be translated as raw desire. You desired Micah, his rough hands, his smell of smoke and alcohol, his wild blue eyes that burned like hell itself. That was when he hit you there, making you jump.

-Yeah, hop for me, little rabbit. – he said, hitting your cunt again.

With each slap, you would hop, and at some point, you would hop even before getting slapped.

-No, you won't avoid it – he said, pushing your leash, your throat closing a little more, and making you stay on the ground – you won't be able to hop now.

And he hit you good, your whole body ached with pain and pleasure. Then, he finally opened his trousers, just enough to put his hard cock out in the open. He rubbed it against your butt cheeks, and all sensations felt enhanced. The area was so sensible that you could feel even the lightest touch, the smallest texture difference. Then, he rubbed his boner against your cunt, and it felt maddening.

You breathed with difficulty, air escaping your lungs.

-Oh, you like that? – he laughed, satisfied – You like that... Want some?

You nodded and whined.

-Beg for it. – he said – Beg like the little whore you are.

And he pressed his cock's length against you hard, without entering you, rubbing himself against your pussy's lips. You screamed a little with the feeling.

-I can't hear you – he whispered in your ear, before turning his tone into a harsh command – I said, beg for it!

-Peesee – you tried to say, with the cloth in your mouth.

-Say it again – and he pressed against you once more, harsh and violent.

-PEESEE!! – you tried to scream.

He didn't say anything, just shoved himself inside of you in a single movement. You screamed, and it sounded like a cry of despair. You couldn't control your moans and screeches, his cock making you quiver and shake. He tightened the leash around your neck, even more, trying to silence your voice, noticing how tight you became around him.

-Ain't you a nasty one... – he said, amusement in his voice, shoving his dick harder and deeper inside your pussy. His belly touching your back.

Your legs started shaking uncontrollably, and you felt that you could fall at any given moment. He held you by your thigh, pumping you up with his movements.

-You begged, now, you should thank me for fucking you so good. – he said, taking out his dick and shoving everything in a single swing of hips, you felt his balls hitting you too.

-Thank me – he said again, and did the same move once more – Thank me – he repeated, and did it again, and so on.

-Than... – you tried to say.

-Say it right! – he got harsher until you felt that your body couldn't take any more – Thank me!

-Thannk yooo! – you cried the loudest that you could, feeling your whole body exploding with pleasure. You didn't feel your legs, and they surrendered to gravity. He held you with his two hands, and didn't stop to fuck you, in fact, he got more violent if that was even possible.

Your body bent against him, like a broken doll in a shop. He held you close and tight, digging his nails in your flesh, and the world seemed to revolve around you. You could feel his heart pounding against you, on your back, in his cock inside of you, and that rhythm brought you peace.

Your cunt was sore within, and the feeling made you cry silently with pleasure and pain combined. When he came close to cumming – and you could know because the way his cock felt inside of you – he held your neck with one hand, and buried his face in your hair, moaning loud and rough, before he took off his cock.

-On your knees – he said gasping, letting you slip to the ground – we can't have little Micahs running around, and you... you can't waste a drop of mine. Open your mouth.

You did as he said, sitting and opening your mouth to him. He took off the piece of cloth that was there before, throwing it away.

It was the first time you saw his cock, the moonlight gave it shape and size. You had figured before that it was thick, but now you noticed that he was also a little bent to the right, with a red tip.

He jerked off in your mouth, moaning with relief.

-Don't spit, or I will know. – he said, holding your jaw – swallow it.

You did.

-Such a pretty face... – he touched your scar with his thumb – even more, when painted with my cum.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, and more mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimshaw is an underrated goddess.
> 
> I hate Pearson.
> 
> fight me.

Nothing more terrible than the next day. People used to say that the next morning brought hope, but for you, it brought dread and doubt. Were you drunk on a stupid level last night?

You tasted your mouth, and could still remember his taste, even if faded for the most part. A mix of disgust and pleasure fought within you.

You were not drunk enough to forget what you did together. Thankfully or not.

Your head hurt. In fact, your whole body seemed hurt, in special your pussy – it ached, you noticed as you tried to sit in your bedroll.

Strangely, the only part of you that didn’t hurt was your feelings. All that pain and hatred from yesterday, it was gone. Free at last, you had come to terms with your feelings. You were not happy, obviously, but you felt peace about it. Still, didn’t know if it were right to fuck him.

Fuck Micah. A shiver ran down your spine.

Micah had fleed to somewhere after you two fucked, almost scared of personal contact. That didn’t bother you so much. If he liked you or not, it didn’t seem the problem for you at that moment, because you didn’t expect him to feel anything from the beginning.

He was not so scary anymore, though. And the edge that you had been living the past few days had faded, much like a cloud that stopped blocking the sun, or a weight that had been taken off your back.

You also admitted that your cunt had more ideas about him than you, and that was ok. It was okay, for you were not a lonely whore anymore, and you didn’t owe him shit. You shouldn’t do it again. It was meant to be a one-time thing, you were better now, truly.

And you were not a naive girl, you knew who you were dealing with, and Micah was no prince charming nor a gentleman, although, you knew about both types from your previous profession and none of them were truly kind to you, just a bunch of men with a soft way to speak their lies.

Micah's personality was a riddle you were yet to discover, but the parts that you knew already charmed you. The way he spoke to people - when he was not trying to prove to be the number one dog around - was always straight up to the point, no lies, even if the truth was unpleasant.

You had to admit that him being a survivor turned you on, something about his will to live and fight, always restless, made you feel safe, and hoped to be like him on this subject.

In general, he was like broken china, like a mirror that was broken and put back with most shards missing or in wrong places.

You could see yourself in him somehow, and forgive his self-destructive anger, and the way he wanted to make everyone hate him. Also, you could forgive yourself.

But you would not change towards him. Would not melt at his feet for he didn't deserve that. You picked your things and before returning to camp, you went up the river, in a place that no one would see you, it was better if you were at least clean when you returned to camp, and not smelling like his cum and cheap perfume, that way you could conserve a bit of your dignity.

.It was midday and Micah still wasn’t anywhere to be seen, if you were being true to facts, he was probably flattering himself about fucking you, in a saloon, or even thinking that he was putting distance between you two so you wouldn't be clingy.

Old Micah Bell was probably doing that and drinking as well. A man’s ego wasn't your problem, even though it could be pathetic sometimes.

Although there were many things against you on that day, your body felt good, and for a simple woman, sometimes, that’s all you need after a long nightmare. To feel good even if only for a few moments.

You washed yourself thoroughly, checking every inch of skin. Your hips had their share of bruises, and your cunt was a little swollen, for obvious reasons. You didn’t regret it though, and the pain was comfortable enough – if that ever made sense to someone. As you touched yourself in your core, you remembered the night before, because the liquor was not strong enough to make you forget.

Once you thought that you were clean enough, you returned to camp, maybe there was still time to eat that poor excuse that Pearson called "food". It filled your belly alright, but was about it. Lucky your stomach had eaten worse over time, so Pearson's cooking skills were not your biggest problem.

Once at camp things turned confuse. It was almost like everyone knew that you fucked Micah, or at least was involved in something sexual, for they were all staring at you strangely, but it was Miss Grimshaw who spoke to you first.

-What’s that around your neck, Y/N? – she said, not in a friendly way.

-What? – you said, touching the skin around your neck, and suddenly you realized what was the problem. His belt. How did you forget about that?

-You should be ashamed of yourself, showing that mark around like a trophy or something! – she said.

-It’s not exactly it... – you started to say. You could tell that she was into a rough play too, if she still fucked. But, she chose to bring that up anyway.

-You telling me that somebody tried to strangle you in your sleep, is that it Y/N?

-Well, it could be too. – you said, not sounding guilty at all.

You could foresee her hand slapping you, she liked to impose herself with a good slap, but, for some reason, she didn’t. Perhaps her soft spot for you was too soft, or maybe, she didn’t feel much sure about hitting a possible maniac with unpredictable moves.

No, Miss Grimshaw knew you enough and liked you. If she didn't hit you, that's because she knew it would only worsen the situation. Of course, you were not about to push that luck with the only woman you ever saw as a mother figure.

She looked around, trying to control her temper, but with no effect.

-Well, I will not pry in your personal life, but... get yourself together – she said, almost as a command, and she got closer, so only you could hear – Tell me it isn’t Micah.

Miss Grimshaw was being overprotective in her own way, which felt good, until it didn't. You couldn't lie to the only woman who got your back since the beginning, so you looked away in silence.

-It was him! – she laughed but her laugh was more like an angry growl – don’t you know what kind of man he is...?

You still didn’t answer her.

-Do you enjoy being with him?

-No. – you said at last, and it was half true. True enough to tell.

She eyed you measuring your words. She could tell that it was a half-truth but didn't push it further.

-If you were wise, you would stay away from him. – she said – And more, if you have time to waste, then you have time to work. There is mending to do, since Pearson won’t have you anymore.

Miss Grimshaw walked away. You knew her enough to know that her last behavior was her overprotective mode acting. Inevitably you could see that, in some way, she treated you differently from the other girls, she thought that you were not as strong as the others, the youngest. And the loneliest.

Since you knew her, she had been your role model, and she was the person that made you believe that you deserved something beyond being a sad whore, she tended to your wounds inside out and made you who you were. It hurt you so much to disappoint her.

She, who never had a child of her own, had a natural instinct over you. She wanted to protect you from so much, and yet, she knew she couldn’t. You were walking a very dangerous path, and if you didn’t end up broken, your fate would be death. And then she would sigh, resigned to the fact that everyone in that camp was going to have the same fate. Premature death, or broken for life.

But Micah was another story, he was a lost cause and could only do you harm. If only you had chosen another, maybe Lenny, he was a good kid, or, who knows, Javier, for he was a nice person. Charles was already taken by a gypsy type.

But no. You chose Micah Bell.

Or maybe he chose you too. He was not worth a cent and few were as bad as him, and you were dwelling under his wing. That was a promise of problem.

Miss Grimshaw was troubled by her thoughts. The problem wasn’t the marks on your neck, it was the man who did them.

You picked a plate of food, letting her words sink on you. Were you doing something wrong?

-Rough night, huh? – said Pearson, trying to provoke you.

-It’s not your business – you answered, trying to stay calm, for his presence filled you with disgust and anger.

-Of course not, thank god – he said, laughing.

-Before you try to insult me, why don’t you try to see if you can find your own cock? You’re so fat that not even a detective could find it for you! – you snapped, and suddenly knew that you shouldn't.

-You look here! – he said, with a knife at hand – Who is you to talk to me like that?! If it weren’t for Hosea, where would you be? Licking my balls if I paid you a few cents.

And your nice day was gone, and it wasn’t even because of Micah. You felt that there were no drawing back now, anger filling every part of you. You swallowed your food quickly and threw your plate at his face.

-Lick that you fat dumb twit!

And Pearson came in your direction, and there was no one besides you around. And you launched yourself against him. The fat fuck was strong but not as the other males you had to brawl, and you stood your ground, holding his knife that he tried to turn in your direction.

-Stop it! – Sadie said, trying to break you apart.

You released his hand, but you didn’t notice that the knife was not your only problem, and he punched you in the face. You fell back on the ground, even angrier than before, but Pearson felt quite disorientated, as if knew that he had crossed the line.

-She was asking for it! I only defended myself! – he said.

-Yeah, you defended yourself from a woman smaller than you – suddenly Javier was close to you. In fact, every person from camp got closer to see the fight.

-I can fend for myself – you said, getting in your feet.

You eyed him for a distraction, for a moment that you could take your revenge.

-I didn't do anything, she attacked me, mad woman! Crazy-eyes!

-Shut up, Pearson – said Uncle.

And this time, when he was explaining himself and not looking at you, you knocked the cook. You felt his teeth grinding, and you hoped that he had bitten himself too.

-Stop it, Y/N! You lost it, don’t you know how to control yourself?! – said Karen.

-What is happening here? – it was Hosea that arrived – Y/N, Pearson, you two fools, what happened?!

-Tell them, Pearson – you said.

-She assaulted me from nowhere! She’s crazy, we should throw her out! She’s a crazy animal, throw her out, stupid whore!

-Stop this nonsense now! – Hosea demanded – Y/N why did you attacked Pearson?

-I was only defending myself. – you said, not taking your eyes of Pearson.

-You overreacted, again – said Hosea, tired.

Yes, he was tired of you. They all were. Even Miss Grimshaw. You could see it in their eyes.

Pearson spat blood on the ground.

-It’s best for you to back away a little Y/N, you are causing to much trouble as it is – said Hosea – go on a hunting trip or anything. Let moods calm down.

-It’s not like that! – Miss Grimshaw said, interfering in your favor – Pearson is always provoking her, and he did it again.

-That’s not reason enough. We are a family, we can’t have this type of behavior – said Hosea – This is your second chance Y/N, don’t waste it.

And Hosea walked away from the mess. Miss Grimshaw grabbed you by your arm and guided you away.

Once inside a tent, she gave you one of her looks.

-I won’t be always around, you know?

-Yes. – you said, your cheek already swollen.

-You can’t keep pulling these things around here.

-Why don’t you people throw Micah away, he does the same shit or even worse than me. Or even that fat fuck, why me and not them?

-Yes. But Micah is a man, and a great shooter. Dutch wouldn’t open hand of that leverage... And Pearson, he does cook.

-... But Dutch could leave behind a whore that only brought problem, tho. – you ended what she had begun.

She didn’t say you were wrong.

-That mess you pulled in Strawberry could have gone wrong in so many ways.

-And Micah was forgiven, but I don’t. I saved his skin, but they just see me as... as... a mistake or...

-I know. – Miss Grimshaw said – Believe me, I know what it is to feel underrated. If these fools didn’t have me, they would be long gone, I say. But they thank me? No. Just expect me to turn the wheels of the world to them. We is woman, Y/N, and for that... we is guilty for a lifetime.

-What am I even doin’ here? – you felt your tears escaping your eyes, shy and full of sorrow.

-Hey, look at me – Miss Grimshaw said, grabbing your face – Look at me Y/N. You will survive this. You will. You is not one of them stupid woman out there, you have a chance, use it for better or worse, but use it nonetheless. You will fight and win, do you understand me? If the world is cruel, we woman is stronger. Our shoulders is just as strong as we think they is.

And you started crying again, but this time you truly let them run free, and your tears came from a place so deep within yourself, almost like a river that ran in you and now poured throughout your face.

-Ain’t we clear now Y/N?

-Yes – you said, smiling – Yes we is. We win.

-That’s right – she let you go – Now come here.

Miss Grimshaw opened her arms and you fell on them with ease, for there was no better place to be than in a mother’s hug.

 

At night you were by the fire, Javier played his guitar filling the place with its sweet melody, it could almost make you forget the beating from midday. Almost.

It was not because his song wasn’t good enough, far from it, you couldn’t completely forget because your face hurt from the punch you took from Pearson. But the man himself wasn’t that better, he had bit his tongue – that pleased you – and you secretly desired that he died from an infection.

Thats was when you saw Micah arriving with Baylock. He didn't look too drunk, maybe he sobered up on his way to camp. You felt funny looking at him after being intimate with him, but you turned your attention to the fire, what good does it do looking at something that was avoiding you? Your body didn’t agree with you, but, you had to stay firm.

The fire was compelling you to keep remembering the night before, and you instinctively touched the marks on your neck. That was a rough ride with him, and you were not even scared.

It’s true, you were not known for your passion for living on earth, and in your past there were times when death seemed compelling, but that was different. You didn't want to die, not at that moment, but still, you accepted the fact that he could kill you if he wanted to, and that didn’t scare you as much as it should. That must be why Miss Grimshaw was so upset.

Like a person that is not interested in what's going on, Micah approached the fire, warming his hands. Then he looked at you.

And you looked at him.

Accomplices of a secret.

Or what should be a secret.

He didn’t speak, neither did you.

Other people around the fire pretended like they were not observing you two, but they were searching for any sign that you two had, in fact, slept together. It was the logical explanation for your marks, but still, they wanted proof.

Then, he sighed deeply, clearing his throat, and walked away again.

Of course, he was not going to throw himself at your feet either. But there was hope for a small word, after all. Yet, that hope should be shut down, before it got too big and developed life of its own.

There was of no use to think about him, you were but a simple creature, much like Uncle. And at that moment, you were tired, so you should just try to sleep.

After some time, you got up and crawled in your bedroll, now near the scout campfire for it was going to be a long and cold night. Surprisingly, you slept deeply and without nightmares, your body simply didn’t care for your thoughts, and gave into a deep slumber, that’s how tired you were, emotionally and physically.

In the next morning, when you woke up, it was past eight. Most people were already carrying with their duties. You scratched your eyes, feeling pain from the past punch, but nothing as bad as it was with your scar.

As you went searching for clothes to be mended, thinking about Hosea’s warning for you step away for a while, you noticed that Pearson was way worse than you.

He didn’t look at you, but you could see that his face was way more beaten up than yesterday. You didn’t remember punching his eyes, or even giving him a parted lip – even if that lip could be your doing, you weren’t quite sure.

You really made a mess in his face, and succeeded in making everything worse than you wanted to. If you were to stay in that gang, you should at least apologize to the guy, you hated him to his guts, but, that was not the time to make war with people that had more power than you, you needed to survive, and for that, you should at least appear civilized with the asshole.

Whoa, you were becoming a nice person, after all.

-Hey, Pearson... Good morning. – you said, coming from behind him.

He seemed a little stressed out.

-Ah, hey... – he said, not looking you in the eyes, pretending he was selecting ingredients for the lunch of the day.

-So... I’m sorry... you know... for everything... – you said, trying to get his attention.

-Oh...? Oh yeah, no problem. – he said, obviously not wanting to continue speaking to you.

-Anyway... I’m sorry Pearson, I shouldn’t have called you fat... or dumb... or...

-No problem, I said it, ok? – Pearson said, and giving his back to you, picked a bucket to get fresh water.

-Ok... – you said.

Strange, the man didn’t even want to look you in the eye. As you were to return to the wagon to mend a few things you saw Micah standing against the tree, cleaning his gun, and looking as guilty as he looked dead serious.

 

Did he...?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's the one with the party and unrealistic scenes  
> When we rescue Sean  
> and we see things  
> and do some stuff too
> 
> And I love making Micah laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I messed up the timeline in the previous chapter. Sean appears for the first time in this chapter.
> 
> Forgive my typos.

Yes. He did it.  
As you mended a shirt, you thought about why he did it, because certainly wasn't because of new found feelings. If he had actual feelings – which of course he had, he was human, wasn't he? – they were buried deep enough so not even his thoughts could touch it. And his feelings were not kind towards you, anyway.

  
Oh, you could imagine why he did it.

  
Territorialism.

  
In some level, he must have thought about you as some kind of property, and a disrespect to you was, indirectly, a disrespect to him, and he had to assert some kind of dominance.

  
Not romantic at all, just pure instinct.

  
That actually made sense to you, and you didn't even flinch. What were you supposed to do? Appear hypocritically offended?

  
"Oh my, my honor!" – you scorned.

  
That didn't pass as anything feeling-relatable at all, but gave you a little leverage as well. But for how long? That couldn't continue, because he would sooner or later ask for something in return and you expected that to be a one-time thing. In fact, probably he might be thinking that you would open your legs to him whenever he pleased. And your cunt whined about it. But, what if you could continue doing him? What was the problem, really?  
Well, you were disappointing Miss Grimshaw, and he was an asshole, that should be pretty serious in your eyes.

 

"Think about it, you is going against everything you thought was right. Sleeping with a man, and worse, for pleasure! He didn't have any feelings for you, and would never have, merely seeing you like a hole to put his cock in" – you thought to yourself.

 

Yeah, that was a problem. But you didn't want his feelings.  
Did you?  
Of course not.

 

Should you confront him about it? Or maybe, you could just wait until he tried something, so you wouldn't sound like you were expecting him. Anyway, it could not be under the eyes of the gang, or they would have another reason to think that you should go for a walk, for good this time.

  
-You know, Miss, I've killed girls as betrayed us, and done it happily – said Miss Grimshaw to Mary-Beth, right next to you.

  
You didn't look, you weren't crazy enough to meddle in that discussion, not when you already had troubles enough. Also, you didn't pity Mary-Beth that much, she was used to reading and writing more than actually doing any workaround, usually, Tilly had to do most of it to cover for her.

  
-Is reading betrayal in your world, Miss Grimshaw? – said Mary-Beth, and you, for a moment, admired her cold blood.

  
-Not reading, Miss, idleness. – and Miss Grimshaw paused for a second – Idleness is betrayal, because it means I work so you don't have to! – and Miss Grimshaw was screaming at full lungs – That's not right, is it?

  
Mary-Beth got up as fast as you ever saw her do before.

  
-I guess not, Miss – she said, going for the laundry.

  
-You're right not, missy! On!

  
You kept your eyes low, mending the shirt. You adored that woman, but she could be scary as fuck when she wanted to.

  
-Y/N, taking long mending those things, ain't you? – Miss Grimshaw said.

  
-I'll go faster – you said, without lifting your head.

  
-You better – Miss Grimshaw said, leaving you and Mary-Beth alone.

  
-Must feel good be the favorite – said Mary-Beth, in her sweet way, but behind it, you could feel her sting.

  
-I'm not anyone's favorite. – you said, but you wish you were – I just do my work.

  
-I see you working – Mary-Beth said, and this time her tone was more suggestive than sweet.

  
You didn't answer that. At first, you were tempted to start a quarrel about it, but, what good would it do? More fights? Better stay quiet and hold your ground, she was just upset about Miss Grimshaw. Although, if the circumstances were different, you would feel inclined to be – just a little bit – devilish with her.

 

And you smiled.

 

All people used masks. All of them had flaws and scars, even the kindest one. Mary-Beth, deep down envied Karen and how she was so carefree and strong, and when alone and thinking that no one was hearing, she would touch herself and moan Arthur's name, yet she looked down on you for your marks.

  
Karen would cry herself to sleep late at night, when everybody was already sleeping, like a baby without its bottle. Also, you could see how she looked at other girls at Valentine, frustration and despise.

  
Tilly was by far the more emotionally constant one of them, she had an objective, survive, and she was firm on her will to get through everything, although you could see in her eyes that she had experimented, in some level, the same things that you had too.

  
Molly O'Shea usually cried as Dutch pinned her down and fucked her into oblivion, begged for him as you did to Micah, but still, in her eyes, you were the lowest of the woman.

  
Even dear Miss Grimshaw had her blue days. Sometimes she would wear her old dresses just to see how she looked on them, she would put old jewelry, and pinch her face, trying to discover where the young girl went, and how this girl - the one in the picture - was replaced by an old crone – but she would never cry, not her. Her tears had dried a long time ago.

  
They all had scars too. The only difference between yours and theirs, was the fact that yours was showing to everybody see at broad daylight. Even worse was how people usually thought that woman, in general, should be obedient, calm, motherly inclined, sweet, educated, and most of all weak, so men would feel strong near them, as if being a woman meant to be a boost on man's ego and a hole so he could take his pleasure – but woman should be sacred and pure too, because men didn't want to openly assume something that others had tasted before, it seemed like it diminished them under the eyes of other men, but, ironically, they would pour all their desires and perversions on a woman who didn't fit on that specific profile.

  
So, a woman could kill herself as an individual, or, let the world kill her piece by piece. That's why you admired Miss Grimshaw too. She escaped that profile and still was respected by all, strong-willed and brave, she conquered her place in the world. And then, your mind would be filled with thoughts of Micah. He too had a wrong idea of what a woman should be, although you could see that to him, every woman on Earth was not worthy of his attention, just his cum, he made no distinction. It seemed like he didn't have a good relationship with his mother, after all – if he had a relationship at all.

  
You had known men that were rejected by their mothers, and they ended up having a bitter view of a woman later in life, because they saw their mother's rejection on other women too. Could that be the reason? You didn't know, for you were no expert, just pointed out things that you had experienced yourself.

  
Days passed, Hosea didn't pressure you to make yourself scarce for a while, so you stayed, quiet and calm, mending and feeding the chickens, attending to your regular affairs. As for Micah, he was but a shadow in a distance. Sometimes he would be close to you near the fire, always silent and pretending you were not there, reading a newspaper or smoking.

  
And you would not talk to him either.

  
Was he waiting for you to break? Like hell you would.

  
That was another night like those, where silence filled the space between you. At first, that strange situation had bothered you, even more than when he just couldn't shut up. It took a little while, but now it seemed natural.

  
-What are you looking at? – he said, suddenly.

  
You looked around, maybe he was saying that to someone else, but there was no one awake. Uncle, who had been talking nonstop about the time when he stole a herd of cows, now was sleeping, cradling his bottle of whiskey as it was a teddy bear.

  
-What is it that you want, Micah? – you said.

  
-Huh, it seemed like you wanted something from me – he said, with that confidence that couldn't fool you – You is looking at me with those doe eyes, what is it that you want?

  
And he laughed. Was he really trying to convince you that it was you who wanted him? Cheap Trick.

  
-I'm not even looking at you, you dumb fuck – you said.

  
-Yeah, sure doll, you can tell whatever lie you want to convince yourself, fuck... – he purred – you can even insult me but I see in your eyes what you want. Come here – he said, giving soft slaps on his thigh.

You looked around again.

-You must be drunk, or stupid in the head – you said – Why would I want anything with you?

  
-Looks like you forgot about our little stroll – he got up and came in your direction – What a bad memory you have, Y/N, should I remind you what is like to be with a real man?

  
Micah sighed deeply and held your throat, not tight enough, just a light touch like a reminder of what could be.

  
-It's a shame your bruises is fading, they was so beautiful – he purred.

  
A shiver ran down your body again.

  
-Why don't you keep those cheap words to someone who cares? – you said, slapping his hand away from you – or I will kill you dead.

  
He laughed more and lifted his hands backing away.

 

-I'm still waiting for that – he said.

  
He backed off, but his eyes were like the ones of a hungry animal with nothing to lose. He smirked, victorious, one last time and walked away. Logically, he was a piece of trash, and you knew that dealing with him was going to end badly, but you felt divided between accepting his invitation or denying it.

  
Your body didn't have any doubts, though.

  
Could you deal with his rejection? Because he was bound to pull the same shit as before, and leave you alone and stained by him. Furthermore, when did you start to care? That's when something crossed your thoughts, something so simple and yet, you would have to be really invested in it to make it work. First of all, life was much like a poker game, tables could turn with a good bluff, and this way you could put him to the test. How much he desired you? Enough to risk a little gamble?

  
Your cunt ached for him - unfortunately - but, so you could give in to that desire, you would have to change the terms. You didn't want monogamy nor compromise, even less loyalty. You just wanted him to admit that he wanted you too.

 

Your opportunity appeared when they heard about Sean, he was alive and being kept by some lawfolk, Arthur was going to rescue him along with Javier, Charles and your favorite conman, Josiah Trelawny.

 

Something about Josiah made him almost impossible to be hated, and you guessed that it was his way with words and his manners, you just couldn't help but laugh at him whenever he pulled one of his magic tricks, like a kid around a show. He dazzled people, that was his best trick.

  
Your plan, though, didn't include him, but the probability of success of the mission and what it could mean. Arthur was a skillful gunslinger, Javier a master with his knives, and Charles by himself was strong as a bull. You doubted that mission could go wrong. Only if Sean was too stupid for his own good.

  
You saw when Charles' girl gave him a little trinket before he left the camp.  
"A Lucky charm" – you heard she say. That smart little witch.

  
Against all magic, what could go wrong?

  
And when they returned with the big-mouthed leprechaun... There was going to be a party.

 

A party.

 

Dutch wouldn't miss the chance to make everyone believe he had everything under control, and to show that we were all under his – merciful – wings, for the man liked his speeches way too much, and that was a moment too perfect to be wasted. Even if the guy smelled like bullshit a mile away, you wouldn't say anything. You were having a nice life, after all, didn't have to suck cocks that tasted like piss and old cum for a few cents, and you ate regularly, that was a great improvement in your life. You had to be grateful, at least a little.

  
And, you were focusing on Micah and his pretentious attitude rather than Dutch's. Micah needed to be taught a lesson.

 

So, the Irish had returned home safe and sound. More or less. His voice echoed, above a crate, holding a beer and his dignity as both were the same.

  
-... and don't you worry Mr. Pearson, you drunk old shit bag... – he just arrived but was already drunk – It'll be nothing but, uh... the finest game in the pot, now Dead Eye Macguire's back!

  
You were near Miss Grimshaw, sitting against the table, and looking to the faces around you.

  
-... and don't worry about nothing Miss Grimshaw, we'll have this camp running like clockwork... I love you bastards... have fun! Have lots of fun!

  
-We intend to! – said Mary-Beth, laughing.

  
-Yeah, come on... Let's party! – said Karen, drinking her beer.

  
And Sean descended from the crate, drinking his beer.

  
-Even you, you grumpy old bastard, Arthur. – said Sean.

  
-Uh oh, here comes trouble. – said Karen, but you could tell she wasn't all against his presence. Their sweetness was even more complex than you had foreseen.

  
They were sweet on each other, but they could only admit it when they were drunk, almost like they were ashamed of each other when sober. One more reason for Karen to cry at night?

  
-I just can't get rid of you, can I? – said Javier, tuning his guitar.

  
-Mind if I join you fine folks? – Sean said, sitting with them at the round table.

  
-I suppose – said Karen, looking silly. The way her eyes gleamed looking at him almost made her look younger.

  
-I owe you one, Arthur Morgan. The drinks are on me! – said Sean.

  
-They always are, when you ain't buying – said Arthur, walking away to sit by the fire with Hosea and the others.

  
-You are looking lovely as ever, if I may say so – said Sean, not his first attempt to flirt while drunk.

  
-Oh stop it – said Karen, smiling shyly.

 

-Imagine riding with him all the way from blackwater to here – said Javier – estúpido.

  
-So, what now? – said Sean, completely unaware that Javier called him stupid.

  
-Come on, how about a song? – said Dutch.

  
The music started. You walked away from that place. Micah wasn't around, almost like happiness made him sick or something.

  
-You is going to see him, ain't you? – said Miss Grimshaw.

  
-But not in the way you think I am – you said.

  
She looked deeply at you.

  
-You better, girl – she said.

  
As you walked away from her in the direction of the trees, your whole body trembled slightly, excitement trapped in a bottle too tiny for it. You wanted to do it - play Micah - but, a part of you wanted to flee as you had been doing your whole life – fear weighed in your stomach. Soon, you found him against a tree, with a bottle of beer. If you didn't know him better, you could say he was peaceful there alone in the woods.

  
-So, changed your mind? – he said, his smile mocking you.

  
You scoffed.

-Can't a girl smoke in peace around here? – you said, using a match to light your cigarette. It was a peaceful night, alright, no wind to even blow a candle.

 

-Sure, and you came here just to smoke – he said, holding his belt – tryin' to fool me?

 

-If I'm bothering you, then I will leave you and your nasty personality alone – you said throwing your cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

  
-Oh, come on - he purred, all convinced that he called the shots with you - there is room enough for both of us here – he said tapping the tree near him.

  
You laughed.

  
-Don't go thinking you is such a big deal Micah, I fucked better with my hands.

  
-Is that so? – he said.

  
Micah was patient when he wanted to, he knew how to buy his time and push your buttons, just to strike where it hurts the most. Too experienced to fall easily in any trap. The only way to destabilize him was through his ego.

 

Didn't Lucifer fall for it too?

 

You gave your back to him and returned to camp. It was more or less like fishing, you threw the bait and now you would wait. Would Micah bite it just by sheer desire to see what you were up to? He was a stubborn man. Would he be stubborn to the point of wait to see you play yourself or stubborn to believe you, and seek to prove you wrong? What would give him more pleasure? Much of your plan was going to carry on based on probability and improvisation. Were you right about Micah Bell, after all? As you approached the center of the camp, you heard they singing the ring-the-dang-pussy song. You watched in disbelief how grown man liked to sing about cunts like little boys. Uncle had red cheeks and a bottle in hand, making obscene gestures.

  
Oh, you enjoyed that old man just enough, and that was a whole lot to you.

 

You had to give it to them, it was funny alright. All seemed fine, the gang was happy again, playing and laughing like nothing was wrong. Even Pearson didn't seem so stupid. That was a good night. Felt nice to have people around you, sometimes... The only thing that seemed strange to this scene was Dutch's music playing in his phonograph. People were actually drinking and talking about pussy and he was listening to some kind of classical song?

  
Really?

  
You sat by the table where people usually polished their guns, and tasted your first beer of the night. You couldn't get wasted so soon, not yet anyway. Soon Micah appeared, looking as flustered as possible, walking in that crooked way that only he does, shoulders up, head down facing you. Your heart started pacing, but you maintained your face neutral. He sighed deeply, almost like a threat to you.

  
-So, you fucked better alone alright? I see – he laughed, but was mad enough too.

  
You shrugged and didn't answer, just took a sip of your bottle.

  
-I see what you are doing, Y/N, thinking you is smart? I won't fall for that.

  
-Oh, I'm doing something now? What am I doing Micah?

  
-Don't pull that on me, thinking you can provoke me. Trying to get me angry?

  
At this moment, Sean walked by almost falling to the ground but still holding his beer. A true drunken, sure he was. Karen walked behind him too, so drunk that neither one of them seemed to care about you and Micah. They hid behind the girl's wagon.

 

-Look at that lucky fucker... – Micah said.

  
-Huh.. – you were indifferent, sipping your beer.

  
-Hah, don't try to play it cool, Y/N, it doesn't suit you.

  
-Like you would know that.. – you scoffed him.

  
Then, you heard Sean laughing, and this time you waited in silence.

 _-Admit you love me – Sean said in that drunken fool way of his – Admit it and I'll stop annoying you_  
_-I'll admit nothing – it was Karen who spoke._  
_-You love me – Sean said._  
_-I'd rather love a snake!_  
_-Come here – it was Sean's voice, but it faded quickly._

 

A slap sound, and more laughter. Soon Karen came by running and laughing as Sean stood near the wagon.

 

_-She loves me... – he said, more to him than to us – I'm the happiest man alive._

 

-That fool wouldn't know what hit him not even if it was a train – Micah said.

  
-Sure – you said.

  
-What do you want, Y/N? – he said, at last.

  
You shrugged again.

  
-You want to give me something now? – you said.

  
-You wish. – he said, getting down to your level, his hands over the table. He sighed again – I won't fall for that Y/N. Just letting you know.

  
-Okay. – you said, as quickly as you could, as if you didn't care for what he did or said.

  
And he picked a bottle out of the crate over the table, moving his brows - emphasizing what he said - as if he didn't care about you at all. Sean got up and now was standing near the tent, close to you. Drinking his thoughts away, most likely.

 

_-Oh, there she is... the finest lady I know – he said, suddenly._

 

You looked over your shoulder and saw Karen coming by.

 

_-I hate you, you Irish bastard! – she said. She was all too drunk to care about much at that point._

 

Micah and you stood there, watching the scene.

 

_-Ah, come here. – he said, going towards her._

 

You were so tempted to make a bet with Micah, but you feared to ruin the moment.

 

 _-You hate me too, I can see 't ‘n your eyesss... – she wasn't talking all the letters, others she pronounced too much._  
_Sean held her hands in his, caressing them slowly._  
_-I love you – he said._  
_-You only love me when we're drunk – she said divided in laughter and tears._  
_-Well, you're always awfully superior when you're sober... – he said, his words filled with emotion._  
_She didn't need much time after that._  
_-Come on, then... – she said, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the nearest tent while he laughed – I hate you, you know that... I hate you._

 

You couldn't bear any more, you had to look at him and laugh.

  
-Shush now doll, let's hear them – Micah said, finding it all terrible funny too.

 

They were laughing at first.  
_-It's alright John's tent, isn't it? – said Sean – hasn't seen any action like this since nine months before young Jackie popped out!_  
_-Sean! – Karen said, whining._  
_-Move over, will ya? – Sean said._  
_-What are you doing? – Karen said._  
_Sean was trying to get his pants off, with no success._  
_\- Sorry! – Sean said – Ohoho, there they are, look at them. Magnificent._

 

-Is he talking about his balls? – you asked Micah, making fun of them, for obvious reasons.

  
Micah laughed, and it was nice to hear him doing so.

 

 _-Like the peaks of the Derryveagh! – said Sean._  
_-Oh, shut up, you idiot! – said Karen, laughing._

 

Okay, her breasts.

  
-Nice compliment, you could use that too – you said.

  
-I have better ones for you, you nasty thing – he said.

 

_-Come here, you – Sean said inside the tent._

 

They started moaning and whining. You could imagine, but you didn't want to, expecting to preserve some of your sanity for later.

 

_-Hey, what are you doing? – Karen said, kind of annoyed._

 

-Anal – you said to Micah, putting your hands over your face and pretending to be surprised.

  
He laughed hard.

 

 _-It's an old trick my Da taught me – Sean said._  
_-Ugh, no! Don't ever do that again! – Karen said, relaxing again._  
_-Oh, okay, okay, here we go... Miss Jones, meet Macguire Junior – Sean was having fun._

 

-Creepy – you said.

  
Before Micah could say something, Karen was talking again.

 

_-Is that it? – she said, not pleased at all._

 

This time Micah laughed hard and loud. He couldn't help it, and probably would bring that up to Sean until the end of days.

 

 _-You wait, he's a fighter... – Sean trying to save his reputation was a terrible thing to hear – Okay...no, that's not... there... no..._  
_Sean didn't seem very comfortable._  
_-Guide me in here a bit, will ya? – he said._  
_-Jesus! – Karen said, irritated._

 

-That's the ugliest thing I have ever heard. And I've heard a lot in my life – Micah said – That woman is a true fighter. Brave Karen.

 

_-Oh yes! – Sean said._

 

-Finally – you said.

 

 _-You're a lovely woman – Sean said, gasping – Oh – his voice trembled a little – yes! Oh yes, that's it!_  
_-Stop pulling that face! – said Karen._

 

-He's a virgin – you said – must be.

  
-And you would know that, don't you baby doll? – Micah said.

  
You shrugged again. Sean was gasping, and Karen was not whining of pleasure. You could almost precise his rhythm by his sounds.

 

 _-Yes! – Sean said – Ohoohoh Miss Jones!_  
_-Will you shut up? – said Karen._  
_-Are you close? – Sean asked._  
_-Nowhere near! – Karen said, uncomfortable and irritated._  
_-Oh! – Sean screamed._

 

-That's a record alright – said Micah.

 

_-Ohh – Sean's voice was trembling – There she blows! Phew... it's like all worries have floated away... Hey, where are you going?_

 

-She must have sobered up already – you said.

 

 _-We're done, ain't we? – she said, bored and tired._  
_-We certainly are, darling. – Sean said, his laugh somewhere between nervousness and tiredness, but nowhere near the fact that she was completely unsatisfied._

 

When she left the tent, she didn't even look around, so you were not sure if she was completely aware that you and Micah were there. Sean, however, spotted Micah first of all. Sean was a messy mixture of shame and confidence, and soon as he found out that Micah had heard the whole thing, he gave him his back and made his walk of shame towards his bedroll.

 

-That was disturbing – you said.

  
-See? You should be grateful for what I give you – Micah said.

  
-Yeah, what about you be grateful for what I put up with you? – you said.

  
-I knew it! You was all sour because I didn't say anything.

  
-You wish – you got up, stretching yourself – What about you pestering me about it? All I see is you trying to convince me that I want anything with you, why don't you admit that you are a pussy that's afraid to like it too much?

  
-Oh, you want me to admit? – he said, walking around the table, coming in your direction – You coming too sassy for my taste.

  
-Your loss – you said.

  
He sighed deeply again, his nostrils opening like the ones of an angry bull.

  
-Don't you think I could just take you here, now? You can't stop me.

  
-And that would be rape. You don't scare me. Besides, what rape would prove? That you can't satisfy a woman so you must take her by force? Thought you had some pride.

  
He was so close that you could feel his breathing against your skin.

  
-Okay. You want me to say it? I will say it.

  
-I don't want you to lie to me. Or else, what's the point – you said.

  
-Cards on the table doll. Who's holding what.

  
You looked deep in his blue eyes, blue as the summer sky. He held you close, against him, your breasts crushed against his chest.

  
-I want you – he said - Is that what you wanted to hear?

  
-I don't know, keep trying...

  
-Don't test me baby doll, you wouldn't like it

  
-Wanna bet? – you whispered.

  
He held your dark hair in his hand, pushing backwards and making you face him. He was almost two heads taller than you, and you enjoyed how big he was near you. Then he kissed you, his lips were rough against yours, but you molded yourself to him, to his strength. His kiss kept getting deeper, more thirsty and demanding.

  
At some point, you had to fight to back off a little so you could breathe.

  
-Satisfying you enough?

  
-Shut up and kiss me, now! – you said, holding his face, bringing his lips closer to yours.

  
He smiled, but there was nothing funny about it.

  
-I will just give you a treat tonight, you have been a very bad girl, you don't deserve...

  
-Shut up Micah – you said, pushing him against the table – We will fuck!

  
He wasn't all comfortable with that. Seemed confused, yet interested.

  
-What's now, gonna use me? – he said.

  
You didn't say, just pressed him, and started opening his shirt, passing your hands against his chest.

  
-This way they will see it all – he said, mocking you – Let me help you a little – he held you and walked to the other side of the table, putting your back to his chest – now all they is gonna see is my back.

  
You looked to the wagon, your heart racing, trying to see if someone was awake. He lifted your skirt.

  
-No undergarments? – he laughed – You was expecting this, wasn't you?

  
-One may never know – you said.

  
He put his cock out, rubbing it. You started to rub yourself against him.

  
-Oh yes, you was waiting for it all day, waiting for me – he said.

  
You held his thighs, over his pants.

  
-Just as much as you. – you said.

  
-Then, you were waiting big time – and he shoved himself in you.

  
You screeched, but he quickly held your mouth. You could hear Sean singing near the fire.

  
-No sound, or you want them to notice us? – he whispered – I will release you, but only if you promise to be a good little slut to me.

  
You shook your head. He released you and started pounding hard inside you, you could feel him hitting deep, and you bit your lips, so you wouldn't scream. You enjoyed how he stretched you, and made your cunt ache, no mercy, only pleasure. He held you by your neck with one hand, the other holding your hip so you wouldn't break apart not even a few inches from him. But even if he didn't hold you, you still would hammer yourself against him, guessing his movements.

  
-Ain't you an obedient one, huh? You love some good cock fucking you, don't you? – he whispered.

 

-Yes – you whispered.

  
-I said don't make a sound – and he scratched your thigh – You only answer when I say you can.

  
You shook your head.

  
-Huh, your cunt is hungry tonight, what is it that you doing? – he asked, really low – You speak now.

  
-I learned it a long time ago...

  
-It's like you're giving me a blow with your cunt – and he gasped.

  
And he pushed your back, making you bend for him, touching the ground with your hands, then he pounded harder, and you couldn't catch your breath – he was touching every inch inside of you, all the right spots, and the way your cunt ached only increased the sensation, it was too quick and too strong... too much...

  
You cried trying to keep it quiet.

  
-Already? You just can't have enough, can you?

  
Micah got down in his knees, pushing your head against the ground now, you two hid by the table. He kept pushing you further.

  
-You fucked better alone, was that it? – he said, and thrust himself inside you with anger – better than this?

  
And he made you close your legs, making you really tight and difficult.

  
-Tell me, you fucking cum-hole, better than this?

  
-No... – you moaned really low, barely breath leaving your mouth.

  
-You bet – he whispered in your ear.

  
And he fucked you into another orgasm, just to prove a point.

  
What was the point? That he was good.

  
He came in your thighs.

  
Micah got up, closing his pants and looking around, trying to notice if someone had seen you both. Luckily, the ones that were still awake were too drunk to even notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just discovered that are two ways Karen can react to Sean at that party. Literally, I checked on youtube (?). I don't know why, but there are times when she cries fucking Sean, and there are other times when she just goes like I just showed you guys. 
> 
> This game keeps amazing me.


End file.
